


Early

by nerdqueenmari



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, herp derp back to the trash pile, yet more shameless smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdqueenmari/pseuds/nerdqueenmari
Summary: Margaret's morning routine has changed a little.





	Early

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broadside](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadside/gifts).



It’s become a habit. She almost plans on getting up an hour earlier. That one time being late to work was enough; she’s started accounting for the time it takes to get ready in the morning, including a nice buffer when he inevitably tries to coax her back to bed.

She’s actually glad she can plan it - a large part of her thrives on consistency - though she always makes sure to act like it’s a hard decision, an inconvenience, a favor she’s extending. He probably knows, but she has to keep up appearances.

The reality is that it’s become her favorite moment of the day, when she starts to rise, and he grabs her to him so she can’t leave the bed. She likes being needed, sure, who doesn’t, but more than that, she likes being  _ wanted _ , and the way he tugs her back underneath the sheets with him makes her heart race like a lovestruck girl. (Of course, he can  _ never _ know that.)

These are the moments her mind drifts back to during quiet times at work (few as they are). Her fingers threaded through his hair. His hungry mouth on her neck while she gasps and presses her body against his. The details vary from day to day, mind you, but the content remains largely the same: his hands roaming her bare skin, her breath getting quicker, more agitated, and then finally, she’ll hit her limit, and whimper, “Fuck me.”

He’s quick to oblige, every time (at least in the morning, not so much at the end of the night), and every time, she simply melts shamefully into his hands as he moves her however the mood strikes him this particular morning, and has his way with her. Some mornings are quick, rough, and leave her grasping the sheets, gasping his name into a pillow. Others, he takes his time, holding her down while he moves against her body, taking care to make her feel every little thing in exquisite detail. She knows she gives him entirely too much control, but the clock never strikes until after they’re lying there, panting, satisfied, so she really can’t complain too much. 

If there’s time after the climax of their tryst, she curls up to him, rests her face against his chest while his arm wraps around her body, and thinks that this is how heaven must feel.


End file.
